


It's not nice to throw things

by iceyred



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alien Technology, Gen, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:30:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceyred/pseuds/iceyred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So that was what Hawkeye meant when he said Budapest was a pain in the ass. </p><p>A minor disagreement explodes into a major argument, prompting Coulson to showcase his disciplinary methods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alien Thingy

Most of the time the arguments between Fitz ans Simmons were friendly. It was the type of nipping at each other that was often witnessed between two people who were best friends. Playful, good-natured, friendly verbal sparring. Most of the time.  


Every once in a blue moon they weren’t so friendly and the arguments turned from pokes and jabs to punches. Skye nervously fled the lab, muttering something about needing to clean the fish tank, leaving Grant alone to keep the peace.  


He told himself that he was a highly trained special agent who had years of field experience. He could handle a couple of kids snapping at each other. Calming them down and making them see that their behavior was inappropriate for the workplace should have been a walk in the park.  


He reevaluated that statement when the tiny piece of alien technology they were arguing about was lobbed at his head after he tried to interject and calm them down. For a second it beeped and booped at them, and the lab went silent as they waited for the seemingly inevitable explosion. Then the beeps died down and the thing went quiet. Then the screaming started back up and Agent Grant Ward slowly backed out of the lab, like a hunter who had noticed that his prey wasn’t the deer he thought it was, but a tiger ready to rip his throat out. It was only when the doors whirred shut and he was out of the firing line that he breathed a sigh of relief.  


“Everything okay, Agent Ward?” It was a little unnerving how Coulson could sneak up on a person. Almost as unnerving as the smile on his face. The man was so ordinary; he looked like he should be working for the IRS or a law firm, not leading a group of super-agents.  


“Just a little…” something hit the glass doors hard enough to crack them. “…misunderstanding.”  


Coulson’s eyebrow almost flew off his face. “Did they just break my doors?”  


“Yes, Sir.”  


Coulson nodded. That the eyebrow had returned to its normal position and he looked so calm made him all the scarier. “Have you tried telling them to…”  


Fitz’s sneaker bounced off the doors.  


“Yes, Sir.”  


“And they didn’t stop?”  


“They threw the alien tech at me.” He felt a little like the kid who tattles to the teacher, but the fight was getting out of hand and he had no idea how to stop it. There was a very real possibility they had already caused damage and would cause more.  


“Right. Watch and learn, Young Grasshopper.” Without waiting for an answer Coulson marched into the lab. Grant followed.  


The effect was similar to Daddy walking in on the kids. The argument stopped immediately. Fitz and Simmons seemed to suddenly remember that they were S.H.I.E.L.D agents and also adults. There was a little bit of throat clearing and a few embarrassed looks.  


“Um.” Simmons looked like she was about to say something, but Coulson stopped her with a glare.  


“I didn’t bring you on my team so you could trash my ship.” Protests that they hadn’t trashed the ship, only the lab and even then only the doors were silenced with another glare. “First of all, where’s the alien tech?”  


“Right behind you.” Simmons had the decency to look ashamed when Coulson picked the tech off the floor. “It might not actually be technology. The outer shell is definitely tech, but the x-rays indicate that beneath that is…”  


“Zip it, Jemma.” Coulson was using their first names. It was definitely time for puppy eyes and I’m-so-sorry looks. He put the alien thingy (Grant decided that was a suitably scientific name for it) on the table and glared. “Rooms. Now.”  


“Hold on, we’re not children,” Fitz said, ignoring Grant’s ‘what the hell, dude?’ look. Seriously, the guy decided to be brave now? Not when they’re fighting South American military thugs, or new superheroes, but now? Some people have no sense of self-preservation. “You can’t just send us to our rooms without desert. We’re adults.”  


“If you’re adults then why aren’t you acting like it?” Coulson was shouting. Coulson never shouted, but he was shouting now and that was enough to make Fitz shrink back. He looked at Grant for help, and found no sympathy there. Just a look that said, ‘self-preservation, dude. Get some.’  


Coulson continued. “If you’re adults then why aren’t you following orders the way you’ve been trained to do? You want to act like an adult? Fine. I’m giving you one chance to go to your rooms on your own. Otherwise, I’m taking you. And believe me, Leo, you don’t want that.”  


They fled the lab. When the doors whirred shut, Coulson’s shoulders relaxed and all the tension that had been present when he was yelling disappeared. Grant hadn’t noticed he was holding his breath until he deflated.  


“That was intense.”  


“It isn’t over yet.” Coulson poked the alien thingy.  


“It’s not?”  


“Nope.” He popped the p at the end of the word. “Now they get to wait.”  


“Wait…for you?”  


A nod. Followed by another poke. “Is this really all they were arguing about?”  


Grant shrugged. “Seems so. I think Fitz thought it was pure technology and Simmons thought it a bio-tech hybrid. I think. They stopped speaking a few minutes after I got here. Sir?” Coulson gave an almost cheerful ‘go ahead’ look. “Why are you making them wait for you?”  


“Because it lets them cool down and think. Which clearly they weren’t when they started throwing things.” He poked the thingy again. “You don’t think this is dangerous, do you?”  


Grant scrunched up his face and looked at it. His background told him that everything S.H.I.E.L.D was connected to could potentially kill him. “Probably.”  


The thingy beeped at them, then made a little whirring noise, like a purring kitten. When nothing exploded they looked at each other and shrugged.  


“Or maybe not. When are you letting them out of their rooms?”  


Coulson straightened his shoulders and looked at his watch. The tension was back. Even the alien thingy seemed to realize it since it shrank back and the purrs turned into beeps that sounded like mechanical fear. “Not before we’ve discussed their behavior. It’s not nice to throw things.”  


A.T. (the thing seemed to be sentient so Grant decided he might as well name it Alien Thingy, then decided that was too long and it needed initials) beeped in agreement. It apparently didn’t like being thrown.  


Grant nodded. He had an uncomfortable feeling about how these discussions were going to take place. Coulson must’ve sensed that discomfort because he relaxed a little and gave Grant an easy-going, if a little sad, smile. “It’s part of the job of being team lead. You have to make sure your people act right, and if they don’t then you have to make sure there are consequences. It sucks. Mostly for them, but also for me.”  


“You?”  


Coulson nodded. “What were you told about my methods?”  


Hawkeye and the Black Widow had been very cryptic whenever they spoke about Coulson’s methods, giving just enough to tease the imagination. “Methods,” Grant repeated. “Are your methods standard S.H.I.E.L.D protocol?”  


“Nope. But if I did go by S.H.I.E.L.D protocol, I’d be e-mailing Maria disciplinary write-ups later. Those would probably go in their permanent files and the money to replace the doors would probably come out of their paychecks. Compare that to a spanking.”  


Grant felt the color drain from his face. So that was what Hawkeye meant when he said Budapest had been a pain in the ass. “I…I…” He looked Coulson in the face and decided to answer honestly. “I am so glad I’m not waiting for you in my room.”  


That got a laugh. “Smart man. Make sure you’re around when I’m done with them. They’ll need big brother for sympathy.”


	2. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson visits Jemma first. 
> 
> Contains spanking.

Jemma didn’t have much room to pace, but pace she did. Three steps from one end of her bunk to the other. Turn around and it was three steps the other way. Her jeans dragged on the floor. She’d worn the ragged pair, the ones that hugged her hips. She’d thrown them on in the morning in anticipation of an slumpy day. The kind of day where nothing of note happened and she would change into her pajamas immediately after getting off duty and spend the evening watching Mythbusters and laughing at their ‘science.’ Now she pulled the jeans up a little higher.

She hadn’t known Hawkeye and Black Widow. Everything she had heard of what happened after Coulson sent his junior agents to their rooms was third hand and she wasn’t sure if she believed it or not.

Who was she kidding? She believed it. If there were aliens, superheroes, and Norse gods, it wasn’t such a stretch to imagine a secret agent with disciplinary methods that were old school. She didn’t have a suspension of disbelief anymore. Her disbelief had swallowed pixie dust and permanently able to fly.

There was a knock on her door. She had to count to three before saying, “Come in.”

It was Coulson. He took one look at her. “Remember to breathe.”

She did. “Right. Right. I’m so so sorry.”

“Breathe some more.” She did and he guided her until they were both sitting on the bed. “You’re frightened.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

“I threw the 804. And we cracked the door, and I am so so so sorry. It’s just the thing isn’t technology. It was responding to us. To our words. The more we talked to it the more feedback it gave us. It has to be a living thing. A new alien species!” Her words were coming faster now, like they always did when she got excited. Coulson had to stop himself from smiling.

“But?”

The excitement left her and she lowered her eyes to stare at the hole in her jeans. “I shouldn’t have thrown the 804. It’s a bloody stupid thing to fight about anyway.”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Are you…” she stopped herself. Even saying the word was embarrassing. “Are you going to…?”

“Spank you? Yes.”

She felt her face go hot when he said the word. “Oh.”

“Have you ever been spanked?”

“Not like I think you’re going to do it.” It was a second before she realized she had just told her boss a part of her sex life. “Um, I mean, my parents didn’t really hurt me when they did. Daddy’s little girl and all that.” There was a reason she was a scientist and not a secret agent; she wasn’t very suave.

“I believe it.” Was it her imagination or was Coulson laughing? “Well, the bad news is that it’ll hurt. The good news is that afterwards you get a clean slate. We’ll never mention this again. It won’t work that way if this incident goes in your official file.”

Jemma nodded. It made too much sense to argue with. Between Phil Coulson and Maria Hill, she’d face the spanking any day of the week. “Will it be…?” Why could she write dissertations of upwards of a hundred pages, but had so much trouble forcing out a simple word? “Bare?”

That made him pause. “Expecting agents of S.H.I.E.L.D to act like adults should be a given. You should have learned not to throw things in kindergarten. But this is a first offense. So, jeans down. Underwear on.”

Well, that was better than she had feared. Tears brimmed and she refused to let them fall. She had two doctorate degrees, dammit! She was an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D! She could take a couple of swats and oh God he had already pulled her across his lap sweet God when did that happen this was going to hurt.

The lack of space meant the backs of his knees touched the edge of her bunk, which also supported her. She focused on the bedspread with the goofy cartoon bugs and tried to ignore the fact that her jeans were pulled (she really needed a new pair, he didn’t even have to unzip them) down to her knees. At least her underwear was sensible. She had almost worn a thong this morning but had decided at the last second that grungy jean day deserved normal bikini bottoms.

She was wondering what kind of underwear Leo was wearing when Coulson’s hand came down on her rear. She yelped. He swatted again and the only thing that kept her from rolling off his lap was his other hand holding her tightly in place. A third time and she did a push up, bottom overruling her mind in a quest to get out of the line of fire.

He pushed her back down. “This isn’t over.” He didn’t sound mad, he must’ve realized how much this hurt. How every smack lit up her bottom. By the tenth she was sniffling. But the fifteenth she was crying.

The fabric didn’t offer that much protection. She could feel his hand, feel it cover every inch of her bottom. The heat traveled through the fabric and over her skin, making her kick her feet and beg through her tears. “Please! I’ll never throw anything again.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said, and kept on spanking.

Eventually, she became too tired to kick. The tears became sobs, and she no longer tried to jump off his lap every time his hand met her bottom. Jemma buried her face in her arms and swore to God, Thor, and anyone else who might be listening that she would never, ever throw anything again as long as she lived.

She didn’t realize he had stopped spanking until the rough fabric of her jeans went up her thighs and scrapped against her bottom. It was a scrape, not a slap. He was done. She turned, sniffling, to turn eyes that she was sure were bloodshot and horrible looking at him and silently ask if they were done.

He didn’t say anything. He just gathered her into a big, fierce hug. It was awkward and when she couldn’t stop sniffling, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently held it against her nose.

“It’s almost clean.” He shrugged. “Allergy season.”

For some reason that made her giggle. Which made some of the pain go away and she snuggled just a little closer. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. We’re okay.” He was rocking her back and forth just a bit. It felt so good. Like he cared about her as more than an agent. Like she was someone worth caring about for a reason other than her two doctorate degrees. The lie she had told earlier came back to her. She had never been a daddy’s girl, but she imagined it was a lot like this.

Eventually he shifted her on to the bed. “We’re past this. Don’t let me catch you angsting over this, okay, Jemma?” He smiled to take the sting out of his words.

She nodded. “No angsting. Got it. I was bloody terrible at being emo when I was a kid anyway.”

The smile grew a little bigger. “I gotta go talk to Leo. You take whatever time you need to pull yourself together, okay? I’ll visit the lab later.”

She nodded again. “Shall I wash this for you?” She held up the hankie.

“That would kind.” He ruffled her hair one last time and left.

There was a hamper in the miniscule hole in the wall S.H.I.E.L.D called a closet. When she tossed the hankie in she caught a glimpse of yesterday’s bright orange thong, and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of underwear Leo was wearing.

 


	3. Recovery

As he walked down the corridor towards the bunk space of one Leo Fitz, Coulson wanted to whistle. He didn’t of course, since that would send the wrong message; when you’re punishing early twenty-somethings it’s best to be stern. You have to let them know that they are in trouble and it is Serious with a capital S. Otherwise they’d get the wrong message and keep acting like they were still in college instead of working for a government agency.

Still, he felt he had reason to feel pretty optimistic about his relationship with his team. Jemma had been frightened, but she had recognized that his intention wasn’t to scare her or permanently hurt her, and when he offered the requisite Hugs of Forgiveness (Coulson was a big believer in letting people know they were forgiven. Even after that incident involving a tank, two ducks, the French Ambassador to America, and several gallons of orange juice, Hawkeye had known without a shadow of a doubt that he was forgiven.) He knocked on the door to Leo’s bunk, hoping he would be as easy as Jemma.

The minute he saw the watery red eyes he knew that wasn’t going to be the case. For a few seconds it looked like Leo Fitz was going to burst into tears. Instead he said, “I’m an adult. A real one. I pay my own bills and everything. I don’t need or want a spanking and I won’t let you touch me.”

That last sentence was certainly up for debate. Fitz’s claim to adulthood certainly would have been more convincing if the kid hadn’t squeaked out every other word. It was like hearing a small puppy incessantly yap at creatures bigger than itself. Coulson thought it was kind of creepy for him to mentally refer to another person as a puppy and tried to focus. “Let’s calm down and talk this…”

“I’m not letting you spank me.” The tears had slipped free and made thin tracks down Leo’s cheeks. “Just because I’m not as tough as Agent Ward doesn’t mean I’m not a man.”

Coulson blinked, wondering where that had come from. “I didn’t say you weren’t,” he said gently.  

“Then you agree not to spank me.” The kid was using his best ‘I’m a super scientist’ voice. The voice that knew what was going on and could resolve every problem.

It didn’t quite work. Coulson had handled too many early twenty-somethings who were too talented and intelligent for their own good to let this one flounder. “I didn’t say that either. You screwed up, Leo.”

Like it had with Jemma, the first name made an impression. First names were more personal, Clint had taught him that. Leo flinched.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he whispered. “Just some new alien tech.” Only a S.H.I.E.L.D scientist could describe new alien technology as no big deal. “But she just kept insisting it was biological. Sometimes she gets so stubborn.” He wiped his eyes. “Me too, I guess.”

Admitting his own fault in the fight was progress. “So you admit you didn’t behave like an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D?” Coulson prompted, wishing he had stopped to get another handkerchief.

A nod.

“Okay. Then what are we going to do to make this right?”

“I’m still not letting you spank me.” The defiance was back. “I screwed up, but that doesn’t mean I’m a kid.”

There was something deeper than fear of pain here. “I’ve never spanked a kid. Plenty of adults, but no kids.” Coulson shrugged. “Kids don’t join the Avengers. And S.H.I.E.L.D usually allows its recruits to graduate college before signing a contract.”

“You spanked the Avengers?”

“One or two. And nobody accused them of not being full grown men.”

“Nobody would accuse them of anything. They saved New York. They saved the world. They’re, y’know, manly.”

“That had nothing to do with it,” Coulson said sharply. “Nobody accused them of not being full grown men because they owned up to their mistakes, took their lumps, and tried to do better. You have a choice, Leo. You can deal with this, or you can run from it. If this goes in your personnel file, it gets back to Agent Hill. She’ll consider it the next time you’re up for promotion. I’ll consider it over and done with after a few minutes. Your choice.”

Put that way, it wasn’t much of a choice. It occurred to Coulson that he was being maybe a little harsh with the kid. “I’m not going to lie to you. It hurts. It’ll sting like crazy and you’ll have trouble sitting down for a while. But since this is a first offense you can keep your underwear on, and I’ll use my hand. And I’ll never, ever do anything to seriously hurt you. If you want this going in your file, I’ll do what I can to calm down Agent Hill. No matter what you decide, I’ll be on your side.”   

Leo considered this for a moment. “And you swear you’ll only use your hand?”

“I promise.”

Closed eyes and a watery voice that was almost incomprehensible between the fear and the accent. The kid was scared. But he still managed to work up the courage to admit that anything was better than ticking off Agent Hill, and let Coulson guide him over his lap. The senior agent considered that to be pretty damned brave. They’d talk more about the ‘manly’ comments later. Right now, he was going to prove that he could be trusted.

He was just raising his hand when Leo turned his neck to look at him. “Wait! How long will it hurt to sit down?”

“A few hours, I suppose.” Coulson raised his hand.

“Wait!”

“Leo…”

“How hard are you going to…” Leo swallowed. “Spank me?”

“You’re about to find out.” And Coulson’s hand came down. By the third swat, Leo should have had a pretty good idea of how hard he was spanking. The kid was squirming by the tenth, and by the twelfth he had grabbed his pillow and buried his face in it.

They might be stuck together like glue normally, but Jemma and Leo (and Coulson was calling them by their first names from here on out) were very different people. Jemma had kicked and tried to hold back her tears at first. Leo didn’t kick. He squirmed, but he seemed to be putting all his energy into holding still. Coulson had never spanked anyone who didn’t try to crawl away, who didn’t jump when his hand met their bottom. Even Natasha had tried to wriggle off his lap. As a kid, Coulson had been the pitcher on his high school baseball team. He had the arm for this kind of work! He was spanking Leo as hard as hard as he had spanked Jemma, but wasn’t getting half the response. The kid must’ve had a really good tolerance for pain.

He’d considered Leo to be the more naïve and immature of the two, but he hadn’t counted on him being the more stubborn.

Inevitably though, there was a cry that coincided with a particularly sharp smack right on the curve on Leo’s bottom. It was followed by shaking shoulders and more sniffles than were usually heard at the first scent of pollen in spring. Coulson figured that was enough and after he righted the ratty jeans (it was clearly time for a team meeting to talk about appropriate work attire) he pulled Leo into a hug.

It was a little surprising when the kid returned the hug by wrapping his arms around Coulson and clinging like a baby monkey to its mother. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to Jemma, and we’ll figure out what that thing is, and I’ll never throw anything ever again.” More sniffling. “I swear.”

Coulson rubbed Leo’s back and made a noise that sounded soothing. “I know. I know. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He pulled Leo off his lap until they were settled next to each other on the small bunk. “Take a few deep breaths.” When the kid ran his sleeve across his nose, Coulson wished again for another hankie.

“You ready to talk?” he asked after the sniffles slowed and the tears were wiped away.

Leo nodded. “I swear, I won’t throw anything else. And I’ll make up with Jemma.”

“Not about that,” Coulson said. “About the ‘manly’ comments.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Coulson bumped his shoulder against Leo’s. “You start.”

“Are you going to spank me again if I don’t talk?”

“I have other ways of making people talk. Seriously though? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’d like to know what’s going on in the mad scientist’s head.” He lightly tapped Leo’s head.

A nod. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just…I know I’m not…I’m kind of wimpy. I’m not a field agent. I’m not strong. I’m not even tall.”

“I don’t think you’re wimpy,” Coulson said. “In fact, I’ve met very few people with your tolerance for pain. And height is not a requirement for being a good fighter.”

“But you admit that I’m not a field agent. Or strong.”

“Well, not yet. But you could join Ward and Skye for their training sessions. I’m pretty sure she’d like someone else there to take some of the heat off of her. Do it for a few months. See if you’re stronger then.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

An hour later Coulson passed the lab and heard a high pitched shriek of joy followed by “It’s a hybrid! An alien hybrid! That is so cool.”

A second later the A.T. flew out of the lab, whirring crazily. It settled on Coulson’s shoulder and beeped at him. Agent Ward followed shortly.

“It’s a hybrid. Alien technology integrated with they think is a lab-grown organism.”

“I heard. Pretty sure the whole plane heard. Possibly some people on the ground heard. I take it they’re doing ok.”

“They’re doing great. Fitz even asked if he could come to my training sessions with Skye. What did you do to them?”

Coulson laughed a little. “Only the same thing I do every time a member of my team acts up.” He patted Ward’s arm, and headed for his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coulson, you win Best Team Dad. You also win Best Team Troll. Ward is just standing there like, 'wtf did I just hear?'   
> Sorry this chapter was so long in coming. I meant to have it up earlier but I fail at life. Or, I win at life but fail in timely updates. Either way, a thousand apologies, Oh Patient Ones.   
> There will be a sequel to this! ‘Cause y’all know that Agent Porcupine needs quality time with Team Dad.


End file.
